


Up and Down

by SunGreen70



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1213135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunGreen70/pseuds/SunGreen70
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chip has a manic episode. Originally posted to LiveJournal, October 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up and Down

Most people can’t tell the difference at first. When Chip begins laughing harder, talking faster, and can’t seem to hold still, it’s not all that out of character for him. He’s just _Chip_ , only more so.

During a show, he can channel it into his performance. It can be a good thing then. His characters are broader, funnier. The lines come to him more rapidly. Occasionally too rapidly, and he steps on the other guys’ scenes, drawing irritated glances from Greg and Ryan. Chip is feeling too good to care.

When Chip starts to get jittery, his heart pounding and his mind racing, Jeff will move in, shadowing him through the rest of the show. His hand on Chip’s knee as they sit side by side on their high stools, his elbow resting on Chip’s shoulder as Greg gathers audience suggestions for their song, press a little more firmly than usual, keeping Chip anchored.

Afterward, they gather in the hotel bar so Ryan and Greg can relax. Chip simply wants the sense of well-being to last and figures a glass or six of vodka will do the trick. He yanks a roll of bills from his pocket. “This round’s on me!” He catches the eye of a stranger in a nearby booth, who gives him a polite nod. Chip points him out to the bartender. “Get him another one, too.”

His voice is getting loud, slicing through the quiet of the dimly lit bar. Jeff’s hand brushes his wrist.

“Easy, bud.”

“Let’s go to Vegas!” Chip says suddenly. “Come on,” he urges, when the others look at him blankly. “It’s only about two hours away.” He reaches across Greg to poke Ryan in the shoulder. “ _And_ it’s closer to where we’re going tomorrow.” It makes complete sense to Chip, but Ryan doesn’t answer, just lowers his eyes and picks up his beer.

The idea has taken root, and Chip wants to get started. Now he can hear the whizzing of roulette wheels and the clatter of slot machines. His body tenses with excitement. “Greg! Viva Las Vegas!”

“Settle down, kitten,” Greg admonishes lightly. His shoots Jeff a look over Chip’s head before returning to his conversation with Ryan.

“Geez, who pissed in your beer?” Chip petulantly kicks the bar, earning him a warning frown from the bartender. “You guys are so fucking boring.”

Jeff slides off his stool and tugs at Chip’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

Chip laughs out loud. He can always count on Jeff. “Well, all right!” He jumps off his own stool, jostling Greg’s arm and spilling his drink in the process. Jeff bids the other two good night, his arm draped over Chip’s shoulder, and steers them both out of the bar.

Chip is so busy chattering about Vegas that he doesn’t even notice Jeff is taking him upstairs to his room until they’re already there. He stops mid-sentence and glares at Jeff as he pulls Chip’s spare key card from his pocket. “What’s wrong with you? If you’re gonna be a drag, then go back to Ryan and Greg.”

Jeff opens the door and ushers him inside. “It’s late. We have a long drive tomorrow.”

Chip shoves the door closed behind him with an angry slam. “That never used to stop you from having fun. Now you’re as boring as everyone else.”

Jeff walks over to the bed, where Chip’s suitcase lies open. He rummages through the jumbled contents, shoving aside unwashed socks until he locates the Zip-loc bag holding vials of pills. “You take these today?”

As a matter of fact, he did. He always does. Not that it matters, some days. Chip scowls. “What difference does it make?”

“Come on, Chip. It’s important.”

“Why? Because when I don’t take them, I get crazy? And I _embarrass_ you? The way you embarrass _me_ in front of Ryan and Greg? Come on, let’s go tuck Chip into bed before he gets crazier than he already is.” Chip is growing steadily furious. There’s no reason for it, but he can’t stop himself.

There’s nothing for Jeff to do. Experience has taught him that. He just waits, arms wrapped around his midsection as if to protect himself from Chip’s tirade. His silence only infuriates Chip further.

“It sucks to be stuck with crazy Chip! Let’s take him away where he can’t bother anyone. Or…I know - maybe you brought me up here because you were hoping I’d finally change my mind and want to fuck you!”

Jeff flinches visibly. Even in his agitated state, Chip knows he’s gone too far. He’s hurled a lot of abuse at Jeff on his bad days, but he’s never thrown that in his face before.

Chip falls silent, rapidly draining of energy. For a long moment they remain motionless, Jeff’s pain putting more distance between them than the few feet of dingy hotel carpet.

“I didn’t mean that,” Chip says, when he can speak. “It wasn’t me saying it.”

Jeff nods slightly. “I know.”

Jeff’s eyes will haunt Chip for a long time. He takes a step closer, reaches out to touch him, but drops his hand helplessly to his side.

“I’m sorry.”

Jeff moves away, filling Chip with sudden terror. “Jeff!” he calls frantically. Jeff glances over his shoulder. He’s only going into the bathroom. Chip sags down on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry,” he says again; too softly for Jeff to hear over the running water.

Jeff returns and stands before him. “Here.”

Chip raises his head with an effort. His hands have stilled and his heart seems to beat more normally. Exhaustion is taking over. He looks blankly at Jeff’s outstretched hands. Pills in the palm of one; water glass in the other.

"I took them this morning," he says, his voice quiet now. "They didn't help."

Jeff doesn't retract his hand. "Twice a day," he reminds Chip. 

Chip knows that. He knows he has to keep on taking them even if they don't always do what they're supposed to do, and hope that they'll start to work again, sooner rather than later. He has no choice. But he still makes no move to take the pills from Jeff. His limbs feel leaden, his eyelids heavy. He knows what this means. Soon… within an hour or two, maybe less… he’ll be immobilized with despair; a heavy mantle of self-hatred that will smother him. But he deserves that, for what he did to Jeff. He drops his head in his hands.

“Chip,” Jeff says, his voice gentle. “Come on.”

Slowly, Chip meets Jeff's eyes and notices for the first time that he looks older. He’s no longer the carefree kid who first came out on tour. Being there for Chip so many times has aged him.

“I’m sorry,” Chip says once more, his voice barely audible. And then his eyes spill over with the tears he wasn’t aware were waiting to be released. They slide silently down his cheeks in a steady stream. He knows it’s no good trying to wipe them away; they won’t stop coming.

Jeff drops down beside Chip and wraps his arms around him. Chip hates himself even more. After the pain Chip has inflicted on him, Jeff still cares enough to be there for him through the worst of it. And who knows how long it will last this time.

He doesn’t deserve it, but Chip can’t help himself. He sags against Jeff and lets his tears soak Jeff’s shoulder. Jeff is fussy about his clothes, but he doesn’t say a word about the damage to his shirt. Maybe the damage that Chip has already inflicted is so great that nothing else can harm him now.

Chip doesn’t know how long they stay there, his face hidden against Jeff’s chest while Jeff holds him, his head resting on top of Chip’s while his hand moves softly through Chip’s hair. The beating of Jeff’s heart lulls Chip to near sleep. It would be soothing if he wasn’t aware of the dark cloud of despondency waiting to envelope him.

Finally, Jeff eases Chip off him; wordlessly helps him to lie back against the pillows. He retrieves the pills and water. Chip swallows them obediently.

“Don’t go,” he murmurs as Jeff pulls his shoes off for him and covers him with the scratchy hotel blankets.

“I won’t.”

The tears are threatening again. Chip struggles against them as Jeff turns out the lights and stretches out on the bed beside him. He’ll remain there through the night, and however much of the following day that Chip is unable to rouse himself.

“Jeff?” Chip asks into the darkness, not turning to look at him.

“Yeah?” Jeff doesn’t look at him either.

“I do love you… you know that, right?”

“Go to sleep, Chip.” Jeff’s voice is flat. Chip feels another wave of panic poking at him through the fog descending in his brain. Did he finally push Jeff too far? What will he do if he loses him?

A second later though, Jeff wraps his arm across Chip’s chest and tightens it briefly, closing the space between them. His touch holds reassurance. The damage hasn’t been irreversible, not this time. Maybe it never will be… or maybe one day it will finally be too much.

For now, though, Chip is safe. He closes his eyes and lets sleep overtake him, knowing Jeff will be there in the morning.


End file.
